


Big Boys Don't Cry

by trulywicked



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Blood, Established Relationship, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Rating subject to change, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 21:45:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1794241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trulywicked/pseuds/trulywicked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They just knock their asshole lover on his ass then go rip someone's heart out. At least they do when the big boy is Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big Boys Don't Cry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nezstorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nezstorm/gifts).



> I left this in anonymous dribbles in bxdcubes (aka nezstorm)'s tumblr ask box because I was roaming her Steter work and the idea for this hit me. I did it on anon because I didn't know if it would be well received or not and I wished to avoid fellow Steter fans hunting me down with pitchforks and torches.
> 
> I do intend to continue it to a second, smutty chapter but for now, because I take forever to write smut as a rule, it ends with a promise.

Derek's just sitting there smirking. A knowing smirk. A positively delighted smirk. The sort of smirk that made Peter wish he was capable of moving at the moment simply so he could punch it off his nephew's face. It said 'I told you so' and 'you idiot' at the same time and Peter hated it almost as much as he hated the fact that he'd miscalculated. 

Clearly he'd had too many past lovers who were wilters, and had gotten too complacent with Stiles' wonderful clinging affection, because he'd been expecting Stiles to gasp, maybe choke back a sniffle, call him an asshole, then leave stiff backed and gripping tight to his control when he'd broken it off and called the boy nothing more than a good fuck in an attempt to protect Stiles from one of his old enemies in town. What he got was another thing entirely. 

What he'd gotten was a fist to the face, a knee to the groin, and an injection of some unholy concoction that had no scent and paralyzed him. It was only then that Stiles called him an asshole, as well as called him out on trying to lie and break up to protect him, and left after Derek arrived with that smirk on his snotty little face.

What made it even more uncomfortable was the fact that Stiles displaying such strength and wiliness pushed Peter's buttons in a big way and apparently not being able to consciously move did not mean the usual unconscious bodily reactions stopped. He had an erection and it wasn't going away and Derek was _laughing_ at him, the little shit. 

"You should have listened to me back when I warned you about getting involved with Stiles. You should have listened when I told you how he'd react to your plan to break up to protect him." Derek's tone was so smug it made Peter want to rack him. "Considering that you were the one who always said Stiles was more of a predator than we gave him credit for this is absolutely beautiful irony. You got complacent. _You._ Of all people."

Derek sounded like Christmas had come early and Peter hated it. Because while Derek was getting all this amusement at his expense, Stiles was out there, smelling like Peter and Hale Pack, when an insane skinwalker who hated Peter with a passion was walking around hunting. Stiles was skilled and dangerous in hiw own right, a fact that Peter was lying here reminded of, but he was still human, and he was Peter's and Peter was worried. 

His stomach was in knots. He couldn't help it. He'd lost his family, his pack once before and been so careful not to allow himself to make a bond like that again until Stiles had somehow managed to worm his way in. Just the thought of Stiles being hurt made him want to rip Derek's face off for laughing when Stiles was walking into danger.

Apparently Derek figured that out because he cleared his throat and returned to a neutral expression. It didn't work to make the situation better though. Because now Peter was concentrating on thoughts of Stiles alone and being accosted by the skinwalker. Images of Stiles being just a fraction too slow and getting clawed, bitten, _killed_ filled his mind in full Imax definition complete with surround sound. 

He drowned in those waking nightmares until he heard the sound of Stiles' Jeep returning, the door of it slamming, and the familiar footsteps of his favorite human tripping up the stairs. He felt a prick in his arm and suddenly was able to turn his head and see Derek rising from where he'd injected him with something.

"Antidote but I'd suggest you stay there for a few more minutes until the nausea passes, and until Stiles finishes with whatever word vomit he's stockpiled." 

Peter would have glared at Derek's retreating back except the door to the apartment opened and he scented blood. Before he could surge to his feet, Stiles was _there_ and slapping a bloody heart onto his chest.

The long fingered hands were coated in blood, sprays of it scattered over Stiles' clothes and face, and absolutely none of it smelled like Stiles' blood.

"So...just a good fuck?" Stiles cocked an eyebrow as he moved to sit on the floor beside Peter's prone body, looked pointedly at the erection that was tenting Peter's jeans.

"I may have possibly miscalculated the appropriate words in my attempt to ensure your safety. I can assure you that I am even now pondering the best way to show my remorse." The snort Stiles made loosened the knots in his gut. 

"The next time you even _think_ about breaking up with me for my own good Peter, it's going to be _your_ heart I rip out." Whiskey eyes practically scorched Peter with promise, lingering bloodlust, the remnants of anger and, buried under all that, the hurt that had stolen his breath for a moment before he'd realized what was going on.

Peter looked at the skinwalker's heart on his chest, then back up at Stiles, and a slow smile spread wickedly over his face, "Understood," he reached up, curled a hand around the back of Stiles' neck, and pulled him down, licking blood off the edge of his jaw, nipping his ear.

"Psycho-ass," Stiles murmured, his hand gripping Peter's shoulder, holding tight as he angled his head to give Peter more room.

"Mmm, and very inconsiderate too," Peter licked the shell of Stiles' ear, "I suppose I'll have to make it up to you won't I?"

Now Stiles' lips curved when he felt Peter's other hand tugging on the fly of his pants, "Damned right you will."

**Author's Note:**

> For this established Steter, under normal circumstances Peter and Stiles are DISGUSTINGLY sweet with each other in the day to day ( I may write something to showcase that later) and Stiles tends to just curl up against Peter like a happy kitten all the time. If they're in the same room Stiles is in Peter's space, constantly leaning on, touching, and even nuzzling him. And Peter just basks in it smugly.   
> Stiles being so cuddly and clingy and sweet led to Peter getting complacent and forgetting that Stiles was more likely to spit on someone who hurts him than he is to cry about it.  
> So this was a nice reminder for him.


End file.
